


Alistair and Elanda's playlist

by SteamChesh



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Kissing, Memories, Modern Thedas, Reunions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-25 12:40:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6195484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteamChesh/pseuds/SteamChesh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a set of song drabbles that I couldn't get out of my head.  Not posted in any particular order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lucky

**Author's Note:**

> Lucky - Jason Mraz & Colbie Caillat
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=acvIVA9-FMQ
> 
> I'm always looking for more ideas!

Alistair wakes up early in the morning, a habit now. Being given to the Templars and then recruited by the Grey Wardens made it an easy transition. He groaned and rolled over, and opened his brown eyes, seeing his bed still empty. If it wasn't for the occasional letter that she wrote, Elanda was such a traditionalist, he wouldn't have any idea she was still alive. 

But he had hope that she'd come back, she always did. Nothing could kill his wife. _Nothing_. Not when he couldn't follow. 

He rolled over and placed his feet on the ground, flicking on the radio as he passed it, her dog looking up at him as he began to cook a small breakfast. 

His heart nearly stopped when a familiar tune reached his ears that made him look down at the golden wedding band around his finger. 

_Do you hear me, I'm talking to you_  
_Across the water across the deep blue ocean_  
_Under the open sky, oh my, baby I'm trying_

Elanda closed her eyes as she threw her Warden blue duffle bag over her shoulder, Denerim was busy, as it ever was. Alistair was a good king, she was just glad she could help him see that. The citizen airport was a simpler way to travel, a good way to surprisingly keep a low profile, as long as she kept in uniform... Which she did. Nobody gave a Grey Warden a second glance. Even if it was the Queen of Ferelden. 

She missed her goofy husband, missed his laugh, the way he would brag about her at big parties _'That's my wife, killed an Archdemon herself.'_ Even though she would insist she was never alone. The way he told her that she was beautiful. Each and every day without fail... _'Maker's breath, but you're beautiful.'_

Customs was easy to go through. Always was when she just flashed her badge, no questions asked, that's usually how it was. 

Elanda's grey eyes nearly began collecting tears when she heard a familiar tune.

 _Boy, I hear you in my dreams_  
_I feel your whisper across the sea_  
_I keep you with me in my heart_  
_You make it easier when life gets hard_

Ares barked, and Alistair smiled sadly as his legs forced him to sit down in the kitchen chair, holding his face with a hand as tears began to collect at the corners of his eyes. How fair was this? This particular song playing at this moment? On this day? 

"Can you believe this?" He asked, his voice pained, "Today of all the..." He gulped and clenched his jaw, he wouldn't cry. 

_Lucky I'm in love with my best friend_  
_Lucky to have been where I have been_  
_Lucky to be coming home again_

Elanda adjusted the cap on her head, idly watching the couples clash against each other, spinning their ladies in the air giving them a tight hug before planting a kiss on each other's lips. Her heart clenched when her mind replaced the male with Alistair and the girl with herself. 

She quickly looked away and hailed a cab, pulling her phone from her pocket, flipping the device in her hands. What was he doing right now? 

_They don't know how long it takes_  
_Waiting for a love like this_  
_Every time we say goodbye_  
_I wish we had one more kiss_  
_I'll wait for you, I promise you, I will_

Alistair twisted the band around his finger, but pushed himself up, his body on autopilot as he dressed himself, flashbacks of her kisses trailing along his mind as he buttoned up a white collared shirt... Her lips trailing up his pelvis, up his abdomen, his chest, his neck, jawline, then lips... He'd cradle her face in his hands and whisper something to her. 

"Maker's breath, but you're beautiful." He found himself saying the words, she wasn't here this time. Nor the time before... Or before. She hadn't been here, and he whispered it every day... A dozen times a day. 

_Lucky I'm in love with my best friend_  
_Lucky to have been where I have been_  
_Lucky to be coming home again_  
_Lucky we're in love in every way_  
_Lucky to have stayed where we have stayed_  
_Lucky to be coming home someday_

Elanda watched the city pass by in the little cab. Taking her cap off, pulling her phone from her pocket again, scrolling through her pictures; mostly of him, because of course it would be... Of course it would be. She even imported photos of her wedding to her phone, her favorite: The picture that Leliana had managed to take, Alistair had icing on his nose and his left cheek, and he had just got done drawing a heart on her face with icing. 

She tried not to sniffle. After all... She was almost home. 

_And so I'm sailing through the sea_  
_To an island where we'll meet_  
_You'll hear the music fill the air_  
_I'll put a flower in your hair_

He was supposed to have some sort of meeting today, with some local Bann or something. Eamon had told him a few days in advance and had prepared him for this, but it was hard to keep today in sight, their wedding song had played as soon as he woke up, instantly putting him in this state of... Heartbreak... 

He felt a little terrible, not listening to the Bann, but every time the man started to speak, Alistair would glance out of the window, wondering when his wife was going to come back. 

He remembered placing that rose in her hands for the first time, and he remembered kissing her for the first time... But it was nothing like kissing her when they were married... Placing another rose in her hair before their dance... 

_Though the breezes through the trees_  
_Move so pretty you're all I see_  
_As the world keeps spinning round_  
_You hold me right here right now_

Her feet guided her through the courtyard, she could hardly believe it... Being this close to him. She smiled widely the excitement brewing in her chest. Her grip tightened around the strap on her dufflebag as she smelled the familiar flowers of the courtyard; roses, crystal grace, prophet's laurel... It was all very pretty, but... She needed her handsome husband. 

She approached the doors and she opened them with one hand, tears threatening to spill, debating on how she should make an entrance, but decided to pull out her badge, just in case she was dealing with a new person, but she doubted it. 

She ran into Eamon who, even despite his age began to cry, "I'll go get him-" 

She gently stopped him, "Actually... Let me follow you? I want you to announce that Cousland is here to talk to him about important matters." She wanted to surprise him. To see his face brighten... 

Alistair was pouring himself a brandy, a rather strong one, considering the day he's had. 

"Alistair?" 

It was Eamon. It was always Eamon. 

"Yes?" He sounded tired, even though it was only a few hours into the day. 

"Cousland is here. He wants to talk to you about important matters."

Alistair corked the brandy, taking a swig. Just what he needed. 

"Send the ol' boy in." Alistair nodded, placing both of his palms on the table, trying to recoup his normal self. He didn't need her brother to worry about him. 

Eamon opened the door, and Alistair was about to take a swig of brandy, but something caught his eye outside, and barely registered the door opening again. 

"Fergus..." Alistair began to laugh, "I've had quite a day, and when I begin to tell you about it... I think you'll understand... Drink?" 

Elanda set her blue duffle bag down but didn't approach him, "Just wait until you've heard about my day." 

Alistair's head couldn't whip any faster in her direction and he sat down his cup, his mouth slack-jawed as his feet miraculously guided him towards Elanda, her grey eyes rimmed with tears, just as his brown ones were. 

His feet picked up speed as he nearly ran towards her as she threw off her hat and took her red hair out of it's pony tail, allowing it to freely fall down her shoulders.

"Maker's breath..." He whispered, pulling into a tight hug, doing a small dance circle as he held her, "You're finally home." 

Elanda held on to him just as tightly, she was not going to be the one to cry first. 

"Crying isn't very Warden-like..." He jested as he pulled away, tears coming down his cheeks as he wore a smile and cradled her face with his hands. 

"I don't care." She blinked as her own tears began to fall, "I'll cry all I want." She pulled him into a kiss, unable to stand it anymore. 

She'd been gone for years, with just letters as an interim, he wasn't about to squander the first kiss since her parting. Oh no, not on his watch. His hands slid to both sides of her neck, placing his lips in a better position to touch hers, he understood her haste, Maker, he absolutely did. 

But he needed to cherish this. Her lips were warm, soft- just exactly as he remembered them, and her lips tasted like the cinnamon and vanilla bean lip balm she put on whenever they were able to make camp... His hands began to tremble with the realization she was really here. 

Her hands went around his neck, pressing her body closer to his, able to finally feel his form against hers, she felt like she could just melt in his hands. Her fingers curling gently against the back of his neck, making a small sound of approval as she felt his tongue sweep across her bottom lip, feeling the vibration of his own hum of approval at the familiar taste of her lip balm. She felt his hands begin to shake and she deepened the kiss, her own tears of absolute joy spilling out faster. 

She pressed closer to him, and he swept his tongue across her bottom lip again, but braver, bolder... And to his absolute delight, she allowed his tongue to delve deeper, dancing with hers, hums of approval ringing in each other's ears, he explored her mouth, like he wanted to get to know her all over again- and perhaps that's what he was doing. 

_Lucky I'm in love with my best friend_  
_Lucky to have been where I have been_  
_Lucky to be coming home again_

She ran her fingers through his hair, starting at the nape of his neck and going up- she was glad he hadn't changed a bit. But she felt it was her turn... So she gently pushed his tongue back, and heard a slight, soft whine come from him, to which she chuckled into his mouth- no, he hadn't changed a bit.

She took a breath through her nose, the scent of his oh, so familiar cologne of oak and sandalwood making her take another deeper breath, as it was her turn now to sweep her tongue across his lips, the instant taste of brandy and syrup on his lips, and he was instant in his reaction of allowing her to delve into his mouth, just like she had allowed him.

They pulled apart after a moment, breathy, and tears streaked their smiling faces. 

_I'm lucky we're in love in every way_  
_Lucky to have stayed where we have stayed_  
_Lucky to be coming home someday_

"Maker's breath..." He pulled her into another tight hug, placing her head on his chest, his hands gripping into her hair as he rested his head on the top of hers, burying his nose in her hair, "But you're beautiful..."


	2. I'm Still Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm Still Here - Johnny Rzeznik  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AMGXq9_IQBQ

"Did you speak with Cailan?" Wynne had asked him one day.

He sighed, he always did when it came to his... Half-brother, King Cailan. He didn't ever tell anyone that it pained him when people asked him about Cailan. It was always that way though, as soon as Alistair revealed who his father was, that's all they wanted to talk about it.

As if he could do anything about it. He didn't want to be king, never wanted it, in fact.

"You're asking me if I had a relationship with my 'brother', aren't you?" Now, looking back on it, maybe he didn't mean to retort with a bite, Wynne was just... Being Wynne, after all, it's not like it was her fault that this whole situation got poured onto him.

"Yes. I wonder what he thought of you."

_I am a question to the world_  
_Not an answer to be heard_

"I don't think he cared much about my existence. I didn't mean anything to him. Anyway, to answer your original question, no, we never spoke. Well, maybe once. Maric and Cailan had come to Redcliffe to visit the arl. I was very young then. We were introduced. I believe I said, 'Greetings, your Highness.' He said, 'Ooh! Swords!' and ran off to the armory. So, yes, that was the extent of our relationship. We drifted apart after that. Very sad."

He always deflected the subject with humor.

But did it matter? He was just the bastard prince of some King who couldn't... He closed his eyes, flipping the worry token between his fingers. No, it didn't matter. It never did. It was clear when Maric strode past him that he'd never be anything more than King Maric's bastard son.

Not even Arl Eamon wanted him after a while.

_Or a moment that's held in your arms._  
_And what do you think you'd ever say?_

For ten whole years he had somewhat of a father figure; somewhat anyways, Arl Eamon could never name him a succsessor to anything; Alistair was never his child... As much as the Arlessa liked to believe idle gossip.

It wasn't too long after that... That Eamon had him put into the Abbey.

Eamon had tried to visit him. Tried to reason with the small boy, but Alistair was hot headed and full of pain.

Then after a while; Eamon stopped visiting him. Whether it was that awful Grand Cleric, or if Eamon just stopped coming of his own will, Alistair didn't know. And now with Arl Eamon on his deathbed... He might not ever know.

_You don't know me,_  
_And I’ll never be what you want me to be._

He continued looking at the worry token in his hands, flipping it over and over, mulling his thoughts over as he took watch.

He remembered throwing himself into the training, even if he hated being there. Trying to recite parts of the Chant of Light while watching a candle burn was one of the most difficult and dullest things he'd ever experience (and he says that now, even after knowing Morrigan), but it helped sharpen his mind.

He didn't really have any friends in the abbey either, it was always one of two spectrums; he was putting on aires pretending to be something he wasn't or being called a 'bastard' and being blatantly ignored... Truth was; he was just a lonely kid being himself.

The combat is what he found true solace in, was his combat training, protecting people- that's what he wanted to do. Even if it was just himself, for the moment. But he knew there would be a time where he'd have to defend others, there'd have to be.

So that's what he focused on.

_And what do you think you'd understand?_  
_I'm a boy, no, I'm a man.._

He was 19 years old when the Tourney was held to honor the Grey Warden, Duncan. He knew his skills were lacking, but he knew if he didn't try, then he may never get the chance.

He fought three other Templars, one's he tried his best against, but Ser Eryhn fought with a grace he had never seen before, but just because he tried his hardest, he didn't win, per say, but he learned from that defeat.

His next opponent was Ser Talrew, very experienced from what he heard, had many victories over the Chasind tribes. It was another loss under Alistair's belt. And it was here that he knew that Duncan would never choose him to become a Grey Warden.

But did that stop him, or hold him back from doing his best again Ser Kalvin? No. He did his best, as he vowed to do, and if nothing else, he walked away with new found knowledge under his belt.

Not to mention the compliments he got from his opponents; each of them saying that he gave them a run for their money, and gave him little tips to improve.

He only wished that it would have done something for him.

_You can't take me and throw me away._  
_And how can you learn what's never shown?_  
_Yeah, you stand here on your own._  
_They don't know me 'cause I'm not here._

Oh Maker, the Grand Cleric tried to keep him. Whether it was because of his bloodline, or what- she resisted Duncan's recruitment of Alistair.

He finally felt worthy of something, and the Grand Cleric was trying to kill the feeling before it turned into a bit of self-worth.

Duncan invoked the Right of Conscription- documents that compelled the abbey to hand over Alistair. Alistair counted himself lucky- he hadn't yet taken the Templar vows, nor was he given his first draught of Lyrium- he hadn't been yet chained to the Chantry.

He still shivers at the thought if that hadn't been the case. He was ever thankful to Duncan, and found a new father in him.

_And I want a moment to be real,_  
_Wanna touch things I don't feel,_  
_Wanna hold on and feel I belong._

Leaving the abbey could not have been a more perfect moment. Packing up what very little he did own and traveling with Duncan, killing Darkspawn.

Protecting people. Doing what he had always wanted to do.

Duncan did make a simple request however; knowing that Alistair had Templar training didn't come without it's perks, some Darkspawn used magic, and Templars could nullify that magic, so he kept up his Templar abilities.

However he swore to the Grand Cleric that he would never divulge those secrets to anyone.

And he may not have liked the woman initially- he wasn't going to go back on his word. But Duncan never asked him anything that he wasn't prepared to do himself.

After hearing the words before his Joining, his head bowed low, and eyes closed. This was it. This was his final test. After this... He was a Grey Warden, and though the others had been cold to him at first- he knew why.

And for once, it wasn't because he was of royal blood, or he put on aires. No, it was because they didn't want to get attached to someone that they might lose to the Joining.

He was the first to go in his Joining.

He gripped his token in one hand whilst the other played with the locket around his neck. Filled with the blood of those who didn't survive.

After the searing pain, and he woke up from the nightmare, he was a Grey Warden. And even though only one died, he felt like he truly belonged. He had what he alwas wanted.

His own family and for six whole months, he couldn't have been happier.

_And how can the world want me to change?_  
_They’re the ones that stay the same._  
_They don’t know me,_  
_'Cause I’m not here._

Duncan said a Blight was coming to Fereldan, so he trained harder, honed his skills, kept his Templar abilities up to speed. The Wardens would need him at his very best. It was up to each and every one of them to stop the Blight.

And as he trained, he got to know his new family... Which included a night of drinking- he still struggled to remember that Warden's name... From the Anderfels and had the biggest, fuzziest beard he's ever seen (and in his opinion it was more appealing then Ogrhen's beard- though the Dwarf never kept his clean...).

But it was when they went to Ostagar that it finally set into him, that a Blight was really happening. His nightmares kept getting worse; but at least now- Six months into his Warden 'career' he could sleep through the night somewhat soundly.

However that's also when he saw Cailan again, except it wasn't 'Prince' Cailan anymore, it was King Cailan now. King Maric's disappearance had made Cailan king.

He remembered sighing heavily at the knowledge. He just wanted to pretend like he didn't exist again.

_And you see the things they never see_  
_All you wanted, I could be_

It still makes him angry, to this very day. How easily Loghain was just able to kill Cailan and the Wardens to die on the battlefield whilst he retreated. Loghain has been dead and gone for ten years now, and the thought of his betrayal still makes Alistair's blood boil.

But if there's one thing a Blight knows how to do: It certainly brings people together.

She was beautiful, and he was thankful to say that she still is. Red hair the color of the rose he picked from Lothering, her eyes shimmering like storm clouds.

She is fierce, brave... A light among darkness. A warrior woman.

At first he's not sure why she does certain things; throws herself in front of the Ogre at the tower and nearly dying if not for Flemeth; she listens to him when he knows that she doesn't have to; she constantly throws herself in front of bigger enemies, making him worry. But it's the first kiss on the cheek that she gives him that make his face and his ears turn red... He had felt something in his chest, but it's after that moment... That he knows what it is.

Her smile makes his heart stop, made him grin foolishly, as did her giggles. But it's when he heard her laugh, the one that has that tiny snort at the end, she'd cover her mouth with a slight blush across her cheeks, as if she didn't make such a sound, and for her dignity, he ignored it... But he tried to get it come out more.

But she accepts him so easily... And she doesn't treat him any differently than anyone else... Even after he tells her. She just takes him being Maric's 'bastard son' in stride.

They fought together, bled together, she tended to some of his injuries, and he tended to nearly all of hers- and if you asked him about her habits... He'd tell you that it was a long list of injuries.

It was when he was tending to the wound across her rib cage, Wynne had went into the city to gather supplies with Zevran and Leliana, leaving him to tend to her wounds... She kept some of her shirt on, bunching up the fabric right below the curves of her breasts... But it's when his brown eyes looked into her grey eyes that he couldn't control himself.

Such close quarters with such strong feelings...

_Now you know me, and I'm not afraid_  
_And I wanna tell you who I am_  
_Can you help me be a man?_

Alistair remembered the heat building up on his face, and an overwhelming pressure in his chest, like something was pressing against his heart and the only thing that could stop it was the feeling of her lips on his.

His hands timidly shaking, cupping her face and she looked up at him, a blush crossing her face.

"Alistair...?" It came out breathy, and he could feel his heart pound in his chest.

"Elanda..." He swallowed nervously, "I've been thinking about something..."

He can feel the heat on her face, but she doesn't move, even as he moves closer.

"Like what?" Her voice is barely above a whisper, but she still doesn't recoil.

His throat was dry, as it was all the time when he was around her, "I've been thinking that I've grown to care for you, Elanda... More than just a comrade... More than just a Grey Warden." He swallowed nervously again, inching closer and closer, he was close enough now that her hand that was also wrapped in bandages, was resting on his leg.

"I've been thinking about you... So much that it makes my head want to explode." He's whispering now, "I've been thinking about... What it might be like to kiss you."

Their foreheads are gently resting along each-other, "I was wondering... If you'd allow me that?" He asked softly, her subtle movements are amplified when he's this close- and at first he's terrified that he's overstepped his bounds, but she's moving closer to him.

He's nervous, he's never kissed anyone before- unless dreams counted? If dreams counted then he's kissed her loads of times before. Only dreamed of what her lips might feel like.

But she made him feel so assured of himself, he felt like he could take on the Blight while he was next to her... And Maker so help him, he had grown to love this woman.

_They can't break me_  
_As long as I know who I am_

He knows who he is when his lips touch hers, both of them nervous. He's soft, but her lips feel like the most expensive Orlesian silk.

The burn on his face is intense as he finds his lips rolling onto hers, gently at first, his nostrils only slightly flaring at the taste and scent of her vanilla and cinnamon lip balm and his hum of approval gently vibrates across her lips. The fingers on his leg twitched, and there was a soft breath from her that urged him to press his lips further onto hers, his hand bringing her closer to him while stroking her cheek with his thumb.

Everything's falling apart outside; Cailan's assassination by Loghain, the Grey Warden's being massacred and the last two of them being branded traitors, having to hide from abandoned building to abandoned building as they secretly gather allies with their Grey Warden treaties, civil war and a Blight looming over their head...

But here- here everything is right.

His free hand curls his fingers around a single strand of her red hair and tucks it behind her ear before running his hands entirely through her hair, fingers gently easing along her scalp. There's another soft sound that escapes her lips, and he knows he's doing something right.

Alistair manages to convince himself that he can just last a moment more before he reluctantly pulls away from her, his caramel eyes half-lidded just as her grey ones are, and his eyebrows furrow as he stares at her face worried that he may have overstepped some unspoken line.

A smile grows on her lips before her eyes fully open and she brings her injured right hand to his face, both of them breathless and blushing, before she brings his face back down to meet her lips again.

_And I want a moment to be real,_  
_Wanna touch things I don't feel,_  
_Wanna hold on and feel I belong._

He doesn't let go of this feeling- not at all, and not even a little bit, and it's because of this... Feeling that he lets her open up to him on her terms.

Haven changes everything for her when she sees the spirit- or a spirit imitating her father, and it's after Andraste's Gauntlet that she recoils into her room at their current 'Warden HQ' which is nothing but an abandoned apartment building.

He wants to say something to her, and he looks around and they all do, but they don't know what to say and look to him for some sort of action. How should he know what to do? What could he say? The closest thing he's ever had to 'parents' are dead or is in a coma.

He walks up to the door after a moment and announces his entry before entering, and he sees their otherwise fearless leader curled slightly into herself, staring blankly at the wall. She's been crying- that much he can tell.

He doesn't say anything, but instead sits next to her and curls his arm around her, pulling her head to his chest, just holding her there. It occurs to him now that she's been fighting more than he realizes. He doesn't know a lot about this woman- the woman he loves, but it doesn't matter. She doesn't fight him, but instead molds into him, and he's humbled by the amount of trust she's giving him by just allowing him to be here during one of her weakest moments.

She falls asleep from exhaustion in his arms, just like this- and he lays down on the mattress that's covered by a single blanket, but he still holds her to his chest in silence.

It's the next horror in her life that he wishes he didn't know- but more importantly wishes she didn't know, even to this day. Orzamarr is what gives her nightmares for the next month, but he's there every step of the way- every night when she wakes up screaming and in tears. But he belongs right next to her, he knows he does because she eases into his arms and when the group rushes into the room to see if everything's alright, he looks at them, even as he's holding her in his arms and shakes his head without a word.

It means she's not okay, but it means they're not needed right now, because he's here- and vows to himself to be with her as long as she allows him to.

_And how can the world want me to change?_  
_They’re the ones that stay the same._  
_They can’t see me,_  
_But I’m still here._

His only half-sister was certainly not what he expected... He thought if someone outside of Elanda was to see him as just Alistair- it would be Goldanna, wouldn't it?

But no, she demanded money from him, and he being the absolute noble soul he is, gave some to her. But even then, she wasn't satisfied. Wasn't meeting family, however long lost, supposed to be... Better? Open arms, open heart and all that? What... Why did this happen?

Why was Goldanna exactly like everyone else?

Maybe... Maybe Elanda was right. Everyone's just looking out for themselves in this sort of world... And he should look out for himself because no one's going to do it for him.

'You let this woman berate you without punishment? Made a promise to help her and gave her money? You are quite the fool, Alistair.' Morrigan's words rang in his head and bounced off his doubt, back to him again.

He look in his mug whilst he sat at the tavern, telling Elanda time that he needed to think- but maybe it was just so bloody simple. He had to put himself above everyone else, be more confident about who he was- who he could be... And he could be King. His duty to Fereldan was bigger than his personal feelings, but if pressed... He found himself thinking that he could actually be a good king. He had been a good Grey Warden, hadn't he?

He finished the ale he'd been nursing for as long as he sat down, put a few silvers on the table and left. Leaving the previous Alistair's lack of confidence with the empty mug.

_They can’t tell me who to be,_  
_‘Cause I’m not what they see._

He arrives at their new base, as they can't afford to be in one place for very long, but he can spot Elanda looking down from the roof as she's scanning movement to see who might be approaching- it's a habit from one too many close calls with Loghain's police force.

But thankfully, people have either been turning a blind eye to their faces, or no one's noticing with the threat of civil war.

_Knock knock... Knock knock knock... Knock._

Another momentary pause, no doubt someone looking through the peephole in the door.

"Ah." Shale's gruff voice opens the door, "It has come back."

"Yes... I have." He straightens his jacket before removing the blasted thing entirely.

"And I thought we were rid of you." Morrigan sighed, draping herself across the abandoned couch- something someone left in a hurry, no doubt, "Alas, it seems hope is too much to come by."

"Morrigan." Elanda's voice rings through the small apartment, strict, stern. And warning.

Morrigan's golden eyes flash at Elanda and looks down to her book without a word; and Elanda's eyes dart in an upward motion for him to join her on the roof. Which he does without a word- anything to be away from Morrigan.

They close the small hatch, just barely catching a jab at Morrigan from Zevran, before exiting the apartment- it was time for his rounds.

Elanda's grey eyes look at him for a moment, "Want to talk about it?"

"Not really, no." Alistair spoke softly, laying down on the bed roll, looking up at the sky watching the stars twinkle. In his mind he began to point out constellations; High dragon, Sacrifice, the Sword of Mercy, and-

Elanda's eyes glittered with worry in front of his own.

The Maiden.

_Yeah, the world is still sleepin’,_   
_While I keep on dreamin’ for me._

For a moment she didn't say anything and neither did he, he didn't feel like he needed to, even if her eyes were begging him to say something.

"Aren't you... Supposed to be on watch?" Alistair asked, stilling his hands as they moved through her hair- of their own accord, she didn't seem to mind of course, until he stopped. Just below her ear, tracing her jaw bone.

Her eyes closed with his touch, as if she's waiting for more, but when he stops she opens her eyes and his caramel orbs look into hers.

He wants to kiss her, but more then that he wants to lay with her- you know 'officially', but she's on watch... And they can't afford to get lax now, just because Loghain seems like he's gone soft.

"Zevran's on his rounds." She leans in closer, "He'd call if there was trouble." She pulled out her phone and set it to the small footstool that was designated as a 'table'.

"In that case." He pulls her closer to him in a kiss, it's searing and passionate but short, and even though this is his first time, he knows it's hers too.

They look at each-other for a brief second before he sits up and goes to speak, but she's straddling his hips and pulling him closer in another searing kiss- and whatever words he was going to say escapes his tongue, instead putting it to better use. He's excited and nervous all at the same time, and he slips off her brown long-sleeve shirt, revealing a white chemise top with a black tight bra underneath.

He growls as he feels his pants tighten, and his shirt is being lifted off his body. She's bringing him closer to her body, hand on the back of his neck, pressing her lips onto his consuming his lips in a greedy kiss, which he obliges until he slips off the white chemise.

He uses the element of surprise (as well as his own strength) to flip their situations so she's on her back on the padded sleeping bag, both of them panting their excitement.

Alistair laces his fingers with hers as he raises them up gently over her head, his fingers tightening around hers. His excitement is prevalent in his eyes, but he wants to make sure that this is what she wants- that 'he' is what she really wants.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asks softly, "With me?"

Her grey eyes look at him, and he can feel the heat from both of their bodies radiate in such a small space.

He closely watches as her mouth parts slightly and her eyes tell him before she voices it, "Yes. I do."

It's those three powerful words, that make his hands let go, and his lips are back on hers, eager, passionate. He can taste the familiar lip balm and it just makes his brain further reel with desire.

His hands bury themselves in her dark red locks, before wandering all over her body, down the neck, tracing her jawline- which makes her elicit a small moan that his kiss seems to swallow.

As his hands wander further down, so do his lips. Down her neck, she holds him close, her hands gripping the back of his head, clinging on to his hair, down her collar bone, his hands ease over the bra, following the curves of her breasts and flow down her sides.

He only pulls away when his hands venture across the lightly braised skin of the scar that he remembered tending to... Allowing them to share their first kiss. He places his lips on it and kisses it in reverence.

His hands continue to find scars along her body- no surprise given she's a warrior woman... A beautiful warrior woman. With every scar he finds, he plants a kiss on it, and finally his palms reach the hem of her pants, tracing the thin leather belt with his fingers.

He draws himself back up to her, and he can very acutely feel how tight his jeans are- but he wants to show his devotion- his commitment to her. Because Maker help him, if he gets his way, she'd be the first and last woman in his life. And he plans to get his way.

And show his commitment he does. They explore every inch of each-other and it's wonderful- the way her cheeks darken when he slides his fingers inside, arching her back to get more; the way she breathes his name into the air; the way she trembles and almost shouts when he nips at her inner thigh- mentally marking the spot; everything about her is positively wonderful.

The way she can take control in the blink of an eye makes him remember- or realize that this particular act of being together... In a completely unfamiliar way to him, is exactly that: About them. Being together. Damn the consequences. It doesn't matter if the world is falling apart at the seams.

What really matters is right here; the woman panting beside him, they're both giggling as they help each-other somewhat dress and exchanging further kisses even though they know that after going twice, neither of them have the energy.

They're facing each-other on the sleeping roll, he's caressing her cheek with the back of his hand.

"What do you suppose will happen after the Blight?" He asks softly, and he sees the pain in her eyes, "We're going to have to think about having an actual home after this."

"I don't know. Going back to the Wardens with you seems home enough for me." She smiled softly, and he looked at her with a smile.

What he didn't tell her, is that when all this was said and done, he'd be okay with becoming king.

"I... I like the sound of that." He closed his eyes and drifted to dreams, dreaming of better days for him- them. There wasn't anywhere he'd go without her.

_And their words are just whispers_   
_And lies that I’ll never believe._

The landsmeet approached them quickly. They had their army to fight the Blight; now they just needed to unify Fereldan.

If they could do it- They had the elves, the mages, the dwarves, Arl Eamon, and their ragtag group of misfits... They had to try.

They were within Teyrn Howe's castle, crawling through his dungeons. He'd witnessed Elanda angry a few times, he had seen her pull that anger with her into battle (and why not? She mixed her fighting style with Oghren's beserking). But never before has he seen her with such pure unfiltered- yet perfected rage as the day she met up with Howe.

Wynne went to stop her, but Alistair put a hand out. This wasn't their fight. They would have to sit back on this one- and Oghren took a noticable step back. But not Alistair. He didn't move. Wouldn't move. He watched as Elanda just continued punching Rendon Howe, holding him up by the collar. They heard a sickening crunch and Elanda released a feral growl, like it wasn't enough.

She shouted names with every punch, "Nan, Oren, Oriana, Ser Gilmore..." The list of names continued and so did she, until, "MOM, DAD!" He could see the spray of blood on her face, and the angry tears streaming down her face. It twisted him to see her like this, but she needed it.

He saw her hand rearing back for another swing and now he intervened, holding her wrist tightly, and she struggled before she looked at him, her grey eyes holding an angry thunderstorm inside.

He shook his head, "You're done." Firm tone but still gentle.

"No- I-"

"Elanda. He's dead."

She looked back at Rendon Howe like Alistair was lying and Alistair could almost feel the tenseness in the air snap as her own body limped. The anger was over.

He had seen her grieve before, but this... This was different. Her entire body shook in an attempt to hold it in, and she leaned on him, the hand still holding Howe's collar. She sobbed violently and wailed shaking the corpse of her family's killer.

The silence that followed disturbed him the most, and he gently pulled her hand off of the collar and made her look at him. Her loss was going to swallow her if she allowed it, and he couldn't have that. Not with the landsmeet so close- not with the little box in Leliana's possession...

"Elanda," He softly spoke, and her eyes snapped to his, "My Ellie, he deserved it. All of it." She nodded in response, and i gave him courage to continue, "But this," He wiped the tears off her face, smearing the blood, "has to stop..." Another nod, as she gripped his hands, one completely covered in blood, "Fereldan needs you-" He stopped and corrected his sentence, "I need you at your best.... Because what's the old saying? When you can't run...?"

"You walk." She swallowed hard.

"And when you can't walk?"

"You crawl." She took in a deep breath.

Alistair nodded, "And when you can't do that?"

"You find someone to carry you." And his Elanda was back. She held a very sad smile, but she was back.

"And I will always love you to carry you." He cradled her face in his hands.

She nodded, "And I, you." She sniffled as he helped her up, "Let's go. Loghain won't wait forever."

And it seems Elanda has a passionate way with words, Alistair can see a Queen before him as she takes over the hall and he can't help but smile. They're banding together, against Loghain, and just when things look to be going in their favor-

"Enough! Let the Landsmeet delcare the terms of the duel."

Trial by combat? They still did that? Alistair was sizing Loghain up as someone announced the rules, Alistair knew that Elanda being a noble would know how to handle a sword- even in modern day times. But he had training- Templar training.

"Will you face me yourself or do you have a champion?"

Alistair could see that Loghain was goading Elanda, trying to make her angry. But she looked calm- too calm. Her fight with Howe had been her personal vendetta. She could approach this with a cool head and-

"Alistair will be my champion."

As much as he wanted to do it himself, he wouldn't say such a thing outloud- but with Elanda he didn't need to. She knew that this was his fight.

Arl Eamon came up with a sword- Duncan's sword. Alistair looked at Elanda and she had a slightly knowing smile. Like she knew this would happen. She was a noble after all. Crafty, cunning... And once he won and he was declared king- well... She'd be Queen then, wouldn't she. The thought made him slightly giddy in his chest. But now he needed to focus.

"Then let us test the mettle of our would-be king." Loghain nodded, "Prepare yourself."

Alistair made sure he won. He wouldn't give up. Loghain Mac Tir was a hard foe- he knew his way around a blade and shield. And no wonder, right? He had fought with King Maric during the Orlesian occupation of Fereldan. But with a veteran, came weaknesses. Alistair used what he could to his advantage.

And that's when Loghain gave up.

"So," He panted, taking a knee letting the blade fall to his side, "There is some of Maric in you after all... Good."

Alistair growled, twirling the blade idly in his hand, "Forget Maric." He stated, "This is for Duncan."

It was a clean kill, one that Alistair was quick to deliver. The Landsmeet was settled, Alistair was named king. Anora would only take the throne if he died in battle.

Though there was one more problem to solve...

_And I want a moment to be real,_  
_Wanna touch things I don't feel,_  
_Wanna hold on and feel I belong._

Elanda smiled at him and nodded, _'Well done'_ she spoke silently before turning to Wynne. The old woman glanced at Alistair to flash him a wink- she was stalling Elanda.

"You will need a queen!" Anora shouted, almost angrily to Alistair, "Eamon, surely you cannot expect him to rule alone."

"And as Alistair is king, he will choose who rules beside him." Eamon smirked.

Leliana giggled, "That he should." And threw the little box to him, everyone watching.

Don't mess this up, catch the box. Catch the box.

And he did, elegantly landing on one knee with a fluid practiced movement as he opened the box, "And I have. Elanda Leah Cousland?" He couldn't help but smile, "Would you do me the honor of..." He took a breath, Maker this was happening, "Of becoming my wife?"

He had thought he had seen the entire range of her emotions. But she was trying to hold back a grin that was escaping through her tears.

She began to walk towards him, and he felt his heart thud in his chest.

The closer she got, the more he began to stand. They were equals. Always had been. But she still had not given him an answer.

But it came in the form of a hungry kiss. Both her hands on each side of his face. They were engaged. Maker, she said yes! He held her close and spun her around during their kiss. He could hardly... He just wanted to kiss her until the sun fell into the sea. Holy Maker, she said yes!

He could hear his group cheering and the landsmeet clapping, and Elanda broke apart, giggling as tears streaked her face she put her forehead against his, "Maker, yes." She stated, as if the kiss hadn't been answer enough.

_And how can they say I never change?_  
_They’re the ones that stay the same._  
_I’m the one now,_  
_‘Cause I’m still here._

With Morrigan's magic ritual done, Alistair and Elanda had both ensured that they would both survive the Blight once the Archdemon was defeated. Elanda still had doubts... Which is why she went to kill the Archdemon instead. She took Riordan's silverite sword and went in head first to defeat the archdemon.

"Fereldan needs it's king, Alistair." She whispered before giving him a kiss, "Lead the ground force." And just like that she was gone.

He had wanted to go with her, to be with her when she struck the final blow.

"I still think you had your eye on the title, my dear." He jested bringing his beloved Warden-Commander closer to him by her waist.

"Oh you know me so well." She rolled her eyes with a chuckle as he planted his lips onto hers.

His hands traveled up her blue dress feeling the curves beneath it with a low growl against her lips, to receive a chuckle in return, "We're at a party, Alistair. With Orlesians." She reminded him.

"How about we just pretend that what I'm thinking isn't the weirdest thing they've seen... Or done, for that fact."

"Alistair!" She playfully admonished, laughing as she slapped his chest.

He rolled his eyes in jest and huffed, grabbing two pieces of cheese by the toothpicks and putting one at the ends of her lips. "You get this cute little blush- yeah, there it is." He giggled, only to have her grab the piece of dairy by her teeth, slowly dragging it off and flicking it in her mouth before looking away coolly.

"Elanda that's-"

"My victory." She flashed him a smirk, "Again."

He popped his own cheese cube in his mouth and brought her closer, wrapping his arms around her waist, his chest to her back as he interlaced their hands together, his fingers gently tracing over the ring on her hand, as if he could still scarcely believe it.

"My wife..." He kissed her cheek, "Maker." He sighed dreamily, "How did I manage to get you?"

"You asked me to marry you." She chuckled, his grip tightened, "In front of the entire landsmeet."

He smiled widely allowing Elanda to sway in his arms with the music.

_I’m the one,_  
_‘Cause I’m still here._  
_I’m still here._  
_I’m still here._  
_I’m still here._


End file.
